Frustration. But that’s not the right word. Boredom. That’s closer. A tense boredom and a sense of dread, doom, or just dumb fear of what’s next. Fear of next month. Fear that some luxury will be turned off—phone, internet, gas, electric. I’d like to ditch the phone right now, to be honest. I hate the damn thing—so tired of “devices.” I’d like to ditch the phone bill and use some of that money to buy a new pair of shoes. These worn out sneakers are killing my legs, killing my back, killing my feet. But my mother loves to call for chats, keep me up on the family news. She’s been lonely since my grandma passed. So, I’ve decided to keep the luxury of my phone, to keep my nightly talks with mom, despite that prick of a bill collector who suggested I surrender my phone bill—use that money to make small payments on one of my interest-bloated student loans. Better than nothing, he figures. Actually, what that stupid prick really said was this: “Well, if ya can’t fucking afford to pay me, how do ya afford this god damn phone you’re talking to me on?” Actually, I’m still revising for him, making him sound much more eloquent than he is, because he is clearly a stupid prick, I think. And that’s fine. People can be idiotic. That’s their choice. I’m not one to go on “You’re a fucking moron” rants. I reserve that dark poetry for the climate change deniers, because, seriously, how dare you cling to your ignorance with so much at stake for all of us.

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